


Eye-Opening

by herbailiwick



Series: The Knight and the Magician [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yakkorat prompted: "Mycroft rescues Lestrade."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye-Opening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yakkorat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yakkorat/gifts).



He can only listen and imagine what’s going on. He’s cuffed to an old, thick pipe in a dingy, abandoned washroom and it’s a little warm and stuffy and there’s the taste of blood in his mouth. He’s still a bit disoriented. 

There’s a struggle. That much is perfectly clear. This is what they call when a case gets out of hand. He’s been recognized and taken here by a suspect who waited outside his house, the freak. And now, he must wait.

He knows one of his eyes is swelling beneath the blindfold, and he huffs. Sherlock must be rubbing off on him, cause mainly he’s just annoyed at not being a part of the action that’s so close. He’s been sitting alone for at least an hour or so, which is pretty tedious, especially if you ask his arms.

There’s a yell that sounds almost familiar, thinks Lestrade.

“I wasn’t gonna!” comes a terrified cry, and then there’s the low growl of a threat. 

Moments later, the washroom door opens with a bang. Impatient but measured footsteps halt. There’s a huff of breath, and suddenly the person comes closer. Man, sounds like. Probably the man who’d yelled. Lestrade tenses up. The man’s fingers untie the blindfold deftly, rushing somehow, and Lestrade blinks away the shock of the florescent lighting.

It’s Mycroft. Lestrade slinks against the pipe in relief. He chuckles. “Hi,” he says quietly, wondering at the fact that he’s been saved by the elder Holmes, of all people.

Mycroft reaches behind him, runs a finger along a cuff with a quiet tsk of disapproval. “Are you alright?” he asks. Greg realizes he’s avoiding looking at the black eye. There’s a bit of blood on Mycroft’s shirt, and he’s breathing more heavily than normal.

“Mycroft? Hey, look at me,” he says gently. “I’m alright.”

“We could have gotten here sooner, if—”

Lestrade shakes his head. “Hey, don’t do that. It’s plenty soon. You wouldn’t happen to have keys, would ya?” he asks.

As it turns out, the man does. He fumbles with the key a bit as he leans across Lestrade to get to the cuffs. He absent-mindedly begins rubbing Lestrade’s wrists when they’re free, gaze travelling over the grime of the old washroom. He’s very quiet. The famous umbrella is halfway between them and the door, abandoned in Mycroft’s haste. Blood has dripped from it.

“I’m okay. You did good. Really good.” It seems unreal, that he should be saved already. Mycroft can’t be human. He’s some kind of magician or superhero, surely. 

Lestrade’s a bit dizzy as Mycroft helps him stand, again avoiding looking at the black eye as he situates himself on the other side. Lestrade properly takes his arm, chuckles, and they head out through the peeling door, only pausing so Lestrade can pick up the umbrella. Men are being arrested, and one lies unconscious, blood dripping down onto his shirt from a cracked nose. There’s a knot on the side of the bald head.

“Your doing?” Lestrade asks.

Mycroft’s lip curls. “You should have heard what he said he would do to you. Likely he’ll feel differently tomorrow.”

Lestrade tugs Mycroft toward him just a bit more, twirling the brolly like he’s seen Mycroft do so many times before.

“You care about me,” he accuses, looking at up Mycroft through his lashes.

Mycroft looks about, then leans in to press a kiss to Lestrade’s temple. “Keep that one. I have more.”

It only takes Lestrade a moment to realize he means the umbrella.


End file.
